


If you like it...

by delicious-irony (deliciousirony)



Series: Secret Santa Exchanges [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Presents, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 15:22:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9241406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deliciousirony/pseuds/delicious-irony
Summary: So far Cas seems to have been the better one at this whole relationship thing, so Dean decides to launch the mother of all perfect Christmas proposals. Only to observe Cas slipping something small, cubical, and indeed all-around very box-like into his stocking. But that could be anything, right? Right? Cufflinks come in small boxes, don't they? Or maybe a watch! A... very small one. Or special bullets. Yup. That's gotta be it.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [majesticduxk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesticduxk/gifts).



> Merry Christmas!
> 
> I hope I managed to get in enough of your likes and that the end product is something that you will enjoy :)

It all went to shit when Dean decided that sneaking out of their room and into the library was a good idea. Dean had woken up to an empty bed sometime between the 24th and the 25th of December, and instead of just turning over and going back to sleep, he had pulled on some half-disintegrated slippers and his deadman robe. If he had stayed in bed, if he had been content to be surprised the next day, if Castiel had not chosen a moment roughly three minutes prior to add his final gift to the other gifts under their opulently decorated Christmas tree, Dean would have been fine. ' _Would_ ' being the operative word. 

However, Dean had talked himself into a mild panic that the small velvet box containing the carefully selected gold ring might have gone missing since he had checked the last time before going to bed after everyone else. He had placed the box strategically in the farthest corner below the tree, making sure it would be the last present to be found and, subsequently, opened. Dean was also worried that, since then, somebody else might have put their gift of stupid socks behind the tiny box wrapped in dark red paper - because wouldn’t that be anticlimactic. That would cut short the celebrations on their engagement, having to go back to the tree to open one other present. Socks. Or whatever. Dean was reasonably sure nobody would be _topping_ his gift, but it would draw the focus away from the beginning of his happily-ever-after nevertheless. And after all these years of pining, and then the weeks of blushing high school dates, and, for lack of a better word, after the weeks of much more experimentation-friendly college dates, Dean had finally worked up the nerve to make things with Castiel both official and permanent, and nobody would be getting in the way of that, thank you very much. Stockings, presents, proposal. Dean had a _Plan_ with a capital P. 

Now Dean was pressed against the wall of the corridor and peeping around the corner like a child trying to sneak a peek of Santa Clause bringing the presents. Castiel, barefoot as always but in a robe similar to Dean’s, was shuffling back and forth in front of the tree, bowing and ducking and craning his neck. _What the hell…?_ Castiel stepped back and, in a very human gesture, scratched his head. Then he eyed the stockings attached to one of the bookshelves. 

Everybody had had to provide their own stockings, and the footwear provided a rather exact scale for all the bunker’s inhabitant’s excitement regarding Christmas. Dean’s stocking was made of bright red felt, was generously sized, and there was a big, green D stitched onto both sides, just to be sure. Dean had made the stocking himself, and if anybody was going to point out that he had used a fancy cross-stitch to attach the felt-D to a red background and then to the sides of the stocking, then Dean would simply point out the two extra fillable pockets afforded by this. 

They had been to a traditional Christmas market where Sam and Eileen had stopped in front of a stall peddling faux-historical Christmas stockings, and had spent half an hour hemming and hawing over different patterns while going off on a tangent with the sales assistant about their origins and meanings. Sam had finally decided on a hand-knitted one made of genuine wool and decorated with some kind of zig-zags-and-points pattern, and Eileen’s featured some kind of super fancy all-in-blue printing technique. 

Charlie’s stocking had obviously come from a geeky online store, and Dean was almost sorry for not having got one of those himself: the stocking featured a print of the TARDIS, and along the side of the foot it said 'bigger on the inside'. 

Castiel had been… Castiel, really. When Dean had told him that he should put up a stocking as well, wanting to give Castiel the full Christmas experience, this being his first proper Christmas with the Winchesters and all, Castiel had brought one of his socks.

“I’m sorry,” the angel had said, “I do not possess any stockings, so I thought a sock might do as well.”

Dean had wilted like a snowman in sunshine and had made a second felt stocking, featuring big Cs on the sides. And then Dean had felt inspired and added black felt wings and golden glitter glue on the top as well. Sam had smirked, Charlie had giggled, and Castiel had given Dean a happy kiss, so all had been good in Dean’s book. 

Castiel went over to the stockings and poked first his and then Dean’s. They were all well filled; little gifts and sweets having been tucked in there, bigger gifts below the tree. And then Castiel slipped something small into Dean’s stocking. Dean couldn’t tell what it had been, but it had looked like a small box. 

Which, of course, could be any number of things, surely. Cufflinks came to mind. Or a very… _very_ small watch. There were special buttons for smoking shirts as well, right? A small pack of special bullets, maybe, that would certainly be a thoughtful gift. A signet ring would be an uncomfortably close call, but still kind of alright. But if it was a signet ring of all things, would that not be sending a rather clear message that said 'marriage no thanks'? Of course, it could be something completely different. _Lots_ of things came wrapped in teeny-tiny perfectly cubical parcels, did they not? Knowing Cas, it might be anything, really. He might have gotten Dean anything from a pendant to earrings to shoelaces. Or an artefact. Or maybe something else for hunting. There was no reason for Dean to suspect Cas of having gotten him a ring. No reasons at all. None. Zero. Because, _hell_ , this was _Castiel_. Clueless Angel of the Lord who had not even had a proper stocking and no idea about human customs at all. So no reason to be afraid that Castiel might be usurping Dean’s Christmas present and picture-book-perfect proposal. None. _At_. _All_.

Not that Dean wasn’t ready to vibrate out of his skin at the sheer thought that Castiel might actively want to marry him. Because in that case Dean’s nerves about popping the question would drastically decrease. But it had been Cas who had finally asked Dean out on a date on his own birthday, insinuating heavily that Dean agreeing to go on a date with him had been his birthday wish upon blowing out the candles. And it had been a ridiculously proper date with a movie, burgers, and milkshakes, and a chaste good-night kiss at Dean’s bedroom door that had left both of them with a goofy smile on their faces. The subsequent dates had had a similar Pleasantville-feeling about them. They made it to subsequent bases in a coordinated team effort, which had surprised Dean, which, in its turn, had caused Castiel to roll his eyes. 

“Dean, I’ve been around longer than dirt, as you so charmingly put it, and I am privy to the workings of human sexual intercourse. I’m sure you have heard about Sodom and Gomorra; I was one of the angels sent there to observe and catalogue all sins. Lack of practical experience does not equate complete naivety, Dean.”

Dean had only been able to nod. They had gotten a lot of practical experience since then; millennia of watching had apparently sparked an odd idea or two. And when it came to mentioning those three little words, it had again been Castiel, who had beaten Dean to it. In fact, Castiel had made sure Dean was informed about the full extent of Castiel’s feeling before they even made it to third base. Excessively romantically. 

“Because this is something that should be shared with someone one loves, and in a way that mirrors this profound bond.”

Come to think of it, so far Castiel had, in fact, been _leagues_ better at this entire human relationship thing than Dean. Dean had taken Castiel to go shopping for parts for Baby, Castiel had taken Dean stargazing. Granted, Dean had driven them in Baby, but Castiel had packed a picnic blanket, a picnic basket, and, for when it got cool at night, an additional blanket. Just one, a big one, so they would have to huddle together beneath it. Dean had suggested picking up a pumpkin at a pumpkin patch for Halloween. Dean had carved a scary Halloween monster, Castiel had carved 'C ♥︎ D'. 

On December 1st Dean had given Cas a homemade advent calendar, proper Christmas and all that, filled with Cas’ favourite chocolates. As soon as Cas had understood the concept, he had returned the favour: he had tied rolled-up heart-shaped post-its to a string, numbered them, and onto each one he had written a short message for Dean. Things he admired about Dean,  things he loved about Dean, and things he would like to do with, or very often _to_ , Dean that evening. Sometimes Castiel did so with lyrics from songs, sometimes with his own, direct and very succinct words. On one memorable occasion it had been a couple of sketches which had lead to a _very_ productive evening and Dean jokingly asking Cas to draw him like one of his French girls. That had garnered Dean a hurt look and assurances that Cas would never have any French girls since he had Dean, and that he was absolutely faithful and how Dean could think otherwise. Later that evening it had also garnered Dean a new personal record, because since Dean had _asked_ , Castiel was determined to draw him like _that_ , in very great detail, focusing on all the important areas, and unfortunately, that required time and a certain, sustained effort. 

With a sudden paranoid sense of foreboding, Dean slunk back into his room to check his advent calendar, taped to the wall behind their bed. He had already opened the 24th post-it, and while he had had an _awww_ -moment when reading it, he now felt the urge to check it again. The bright red heart post-it was now on the wall beneath the calendar, and it still said what it had said roughly sixteen hours earlier, only that the last sixteen minutes had added an entirely different layer of meaning. 

“ _All I want for Christmas is you, Baby_.”

Oh no. Shit shit shitshitshitshit SHIT. Castiel was not honestly planning to…? Was he? 

Dean heard Castiel’s shuffling steps back to their room, and he dove back into bed, rolling up under the fluffy duvet Castiel had picked out for them and pretending very hard to be fast asleep. Soon the door clicked shut, the left side of the mattress dipped a little, and Dean had to bite his tongue very hard to bite back the hiss that was trying to escape when Castiel pressed his ice-cold feet to Dean’s calves. 

 

The next morning found Dean bleary eyed and with an air of impending doom around him. Sleep had evaded Dean, but he had had ample time to meditate on the different stages of grief. If Dean were a person prone to reflect on their feelings, he would describe himself to be currently somewhere between depression and acceptance. Thankfully, this was not something Dean did, so he was not currently feeling depressed that Castiel would be the one getting everything right in this relationship and Dean would be the slacker, the drop-out, the thoughtless one, which would lead to Castiel sooner or later - probably sooner than later - discovering that Dean was not prime relationship material, which would lead to Castiel leaving him, and _thank God_ did Dean not dwell on his feelings. 

Dean was up before everyone else, as usual, although he would not put it past Sam to have gone out for a Christmas morning run already. Eileen was much too sensible to join Sam in his madness, Castiel was still snoring softly into his pillow, and Charlie, much like Cas, would have to be raised from the sleeping with something bordering on a necromantic skill set if they wanted to celebrate Christmas anytime before lunch. He started the coffee, whisked the eggs, prepped the bacon, preheated the oven for the pre-baked bread rolls, mixed the batter for the pancakes, took the hash-browns out of the freezer, and sliced up some apples and pears for Sam. All the while very decidedly not thinking about Cas’ Christmas present and not drowning his worries by making ridiculous amounts of food.

His resolve broke somewhere between the sauce hollandaise for the eggs benedict and French toast. When Dean’s restaurant-worthy mis-en-place was done and nothing more to do than the actual cooking, he drifted into the library. His tiny box was still where it was supposed to be. There was nothing tucked away in an obviously more hidden place. So far so good. Slowly, seizing his stocking up like an enemy creature that might jump at him any moment, Dean stepped over to the bookcase standing in for a mantlepiece. There was an obvious, angular bulge towards the top of the stocking. Dean swallowed. He couldn’t look. He shouldn’t. He had tried so hard, done his best to make this perfect, but if Cas was really planning to propose, then he would probably blow Dean’s proposal out of the water anyway. 

On the other hand, maybe this was something decidedly not matrimony-related. Maybe Cas would think that Dean was going way too fast; their first date had after all only been, what, three months ago? Having finally made it there, however, after so many years of fighting against each other, with each other, for each other, Dean simply did not want to wait any longer. Cas was it for him. Dean wanted this thing to be as fixed and official and lasting as he could possibly make it. If Cas did not want this… If he thought this was an unnecessary human ritual, Dean would go with his wishes; he didn’t want to force Cas. If Dean was being honest, though, he knew Castiel would say 'yes', would agree to marry him, because if Castiel had done anything these past three months, it was prove just how much he cared about all those human customs, even if it were just for Dean. Dean was humbled when he thought about how much thoughtfulness Castiel had put into their relationship, how important 'doing this right' was for him. Heaving a deep sigh, Dean realised that he was going to let Castiel have this, even if it meant having to forgo his own big gesture. The stockings were the first thing to be emptied, so at least Dean would not have to wait and guess for too long… 

“You’re not thinking about having a go at your stocking early, are you?” a deep voice whispered into his ear, the remnants of sleep making it even deeper and grittier than usual.

Dean yelped and spun around only to almost push over his boyfriend. Castiel smoothly side-stepped Dean’s flailing and caught him in an easy embrace, hands linking loosely behind Dean’s lower back. Laughter danced in Castiel’s eyes.

“No, no of course not, why would I.”

“Mhm.”

“I really wasn’t going to open anything, not even look.”

“Mhm.”

“I wasn’t!”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“You thought it.”

“Since when can you read minds?”

“So you admit that you thought I was!”

“No such thing, I merely pointed out that since you cannot read my thoughts, you being a human, you have no idea what I was thinking. I might not have been thinking anything at all.”

“Mhm.”

“This 'mhm' is very annoying, Dean.”

“I know, I thought I’d give it a try. It’s very satisfying, I see why you keep 'mhming' me.”

“I do no such thing.”

“You just did, two times!”

“I did not.”

“You so did. You’re an angel, you’ve got a perfect memory, you know very well you did. I’m not even mentioning the whole being-an-angel-and-lying-being-a-bad-thing thing, because history has clearly proven us all very wrong.”

“I concede, Dean. Will you kiss me now? Give me a Christmas morning kiss?”

“That depends, have you got Christmas morning breath?”

Cas pulled a face. 

“I am an angel.”

“Angel breath then,” Dean sniggered.

The kiss was soft and sweet and just really a perfect Christmas morning kiss. _Of course it was_ , Dean sighed internally. 

“You can open that little box in your stocking now, I don’t mind,” Castiel whispered against Dean’s lips, eyes content and twinkling with amusement. 

Suddenly leaving his own special gift until after the stockings and waiting for Cas’ present to come first did not feel like such a loss and such a hardship anymore. 

“No, that’s OK, I can wait,” Dean whispered back, his smile genuine and relaxed.

Castiel pulled a concerned face.

“Are you sure you would not rather open it now? While we’re alone?”

“No, that’s alright, Christmas presents should be opened amongst family.”

“Oh. Well, if you’re sure.” 

This was clearly supposed to mean 'oh well, weird human customs, the more you know'. Not much later Sam returned from his run, Dean started cooking, and then everybody assembled surprisingly quickly around the overflowing table. Castiel managed to somehow get Charlie out of bed, and Eileen appeared together with Sam when he returned from taking a shower and changing his clothes. 

Once the piles of food had noticeably shrunk, if not entirely disappeared, there was simply too much food, the group drifted into the library, oohing and ahhhing about the tree, the presents below it, and the overflowing stockings. The hifi system was filling the room with Christmas songs. Dean plucked the stockings off the bookcase and handed them to their respective owners. Everybody found a place somewhere around the tree to sit down and dig into their treasures. Their little group mirrored the entire range of stocking-emptying-techniques. On one end of the spectrum, Sam carefully put each item he unearthed from the stocking next to the other in a neat line, on the other, Charlie upended the entire thing in one go, squealing excitedly. Castiel watched both of them curiously, before Charlie took over and explained that upending the stocking was the only true way of doing it, which was of course strongly contested by Sam. In the end, Castiel ended up upending the stocking like Charlie had suggested. Sam huffed and shifted his focus to convincing Eileen to do it his way. 

Usually, Dean would have upended his stocking, but there, almost on top, there was the little cube, matte black with tiny, shiny, fire-red hearts, and a sparkly red and black ribbon that kind of reminded Dean of lacy underwear. _Oh God, what a completely inappropriate thought to have right now._ Dean blushed and blanched at almost the same time, one following the other so fast he felt lightheaded. Should he unpack it first though? Would anybody notice if he emptied his stocking differently than usual? He’d have to decide soon, or somebody might notice something was off. Or on. Depending. From the corner of his eyes, he glanced at Cas, who seemed surprisingly unconcerned considering what might be in the box. But then, it was Cas, when did he ever get truly concerned about something as inconsequential as human customs? On the other hand, he’d been cool as a cucumber with all the other stuff as well. This was getting ridiculous. _Just open it already, Winchester._ In the end, Dean upended his stockings like he had done every one of the very few times he had had a filled Christmas stocking. 

There was much excitement about the sweets and the small gifts that had found their way into the stockings. Soon enough Dean had only Castiel’s gift left, and the others, before moving on to the bigger presents underneath the tree, seemed to catch on to something and their attention gradually shifted to Dean, until everybody was watching him. Dean could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. This was so cliche… but also, in a way, strangely nice. Castiel smiled at him encouragingly, and without any conscious decision, Dean mirrored his smile. Dean’s eyes flitted to his own little box - yep, still there, safely hidden in the back; he’d simply have to get it out and repeat whatever Cas did now back to him. That would be an awesome way to propose as well, because after all, Cas would certainly do and say what he considered to be the most romantic thing he could do, the most important things he could say, so this way Dean would actually get a chance to get everything ridiculously perfect for Cas. 

Giddy with the swarms of butterflies in his stomach and everybody’s eyes upon him, Dean carefully untied the ribbon, carefully placed it by his side, carefully raised the lid. He smiled at Cas, urging him to see all the mushy feelings Dean had at this moment, hoping he wouldn’t have to voice them out loud. But then, when if not today. Yeah, today Dean would not mind voicing mushy feelings at all.

Dean lifted the lid away and looked down. Huh. Fire-red silk? Where was the ring? Surely…? Ah, there was a shimmer of gold beneath it. Unconventional packaging, that was alright. Dean smiled. Cas was obviously trying to make things special. Dean dug until he had a good grip on the gold band and lifted it out of the box in a flourish. 

The gold band felt surprisingly rubbery.

It also felt surprisingly broad. How thick did Cas think a wedding band had to be…?

As soon as it was free from the box and the silk, the gold band jolted, twisted, and expanded into a much bigger ring than Dean would have thought necessary. 

There was also a longish bulge on one side.

Holding the… ring?… out in front of him, triumphant gesture at odds with his dumbfounded expression, he could see Castiel beaming at him through the rubber loop. It glinted golden in the shimmery light of the Christmas tree lights. Sam, Eileen, and Charlie stared, sharing Dean’s general loss of words. 

“It expands,” Castiel proclaimed proudly, “vibrates _and_ contracts, and every function can be triggered via remote control. The sales assistant said it was 'all the rage' and was made possible through the application of some of the latest breakthroughs in material engineering. Silicon truly is quite a remarkable substance.”

Silence reigned supreme. In the background Michael Bublé was telling everybody to have a holly jolly Christmas. 

“Oh my GOD!” Charlie suddenly squeaked before slapping her hands over her mouth and breaking down giggling. “OMG, Cas… you… you gave your boyfriend… a… a…wahhhahahaaa…!”

Eileen turned red and then started sniggering as well. 

“What’s going on?” Sam looked from one to the other, confusion obvious. “What is it? What is _this_?”

Eileen and Charlie broke into loud laughter. 

Castiel seemed as flabbergasted by their reaction as Sam seemed to be about the item in question.

Eileen nudged Sam, and, shaking so much with laughter she was barely able to move her hands clearly, signed, “I’ll show you later.”

Sam’s confusion grew in equal measure with Dean’s mortification.

“Oh, let me explain, Sam-“ Castiel geared up to provide the requested explanation, but Dean, finally able to shake off his shock long enough to move again, launched himself at the angel and got one of his hands over Castiel’s mouth just in time. In vain. 

Charlie, crying with laughter, took up where Cas had left off. 

“Castiel got his boyfriend a _golden, remote controlled cock ring_ for Christmas!”

“Oh my God, guys!” Sam cried, clearly undecided whether he should laugh or dunk his head in bleach. “Seriously! Why?! Why not open a present like, like _this_ , in private?! Have some compassion with the rest of us, it’s Christmas, for fuck’s sake!” 

“I suggested unwrapping that present amongst just the two of us, but Dean insisted on doing it in the circle of his family,” Cas explained, unfazed. “My apologies for mentally scarring you, Sam.”

Dean only wanted to disappear. His face was burning red, he was still holding that damn golden cock ring - _where the hell had Cas even found that thing?!_ \- and from where he was slumped against Cas he could still see his gaily wrapped little velvet box with an entirely different ring. How the hell could he give that to Cas now? And what were the others thinking about Cas’ gift? And what the two of them got up to? _Oh God…_ Maybe, if he was lucky, they’d all think it was a kind of joke. A very elaborate joke. With Cas not looking like he was joking at all, proud and genuinely happy like the little shit was about his choice of present.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Dean mumbled and tried to make the cock ring disappear again into its box, but it would not fit.

“You have to twist and turn it, so it is like two rings above each other,” Castiel helpfully informed him. “The sales assistant said that they package them this way because it is funny this way, with a 'ring' in a 'ring box',” he continued, conspiratorially. “But don’t worry, if you prefer, you can keep it in the box with our other sex toys, I don’t mind.”

Eileen, Sam, and Charlie stared at Castiel. Castiel appeared to take that as a prompt for further information, but Dean had long reached his limit.

“ENOUGH!” Dean bellowed. “We will never mention this again, understood? This has not happened! We will now continue unwrapping the rest of the presents, _just like the last ten minutes had not happened_.”

Apparently sensing that a limit had been reached, the others stayed quiet. Charlie randomly reached for a present, peered at the name on the tag and handed it to Sam. 

“Oh my, look, an innocent present for Sam. How great!”

“Who is it from?” Sam asked, accepting the box with a look as if it might explode. Eileen raised her hand. “Oh thank God.”

There was some laughter, and the ribbing never really stopped, but somehow they made it through the rest of the presents, and by the end of it, even Dean had relaxed again somewhat. That was, until Charlie half-disappeared under the tree.

“Ohhh, there’s another one!” she squealed. 

 _Oh shit. How the_ hell _had he forgotten_. Well, he had not so much really forgotten as he had kind of simply hoped that nobody would see it. 

“It’s for Cas,” Charlie pouted, disappointment obvious in her voice. 

“For me?” Castiel was surprised. He glanced at his presents, obviously thinking that he had got something from everybody already. A scarf and a hat from Eileen, Patrick Rothfuss’ _Kingkiller Chronicle_ from Sam, a couple of geeky t-shirts from Charlie, including one that read 'Trust me, I’m an Angel', and a pack of 'Winchester' shirts as well as some socks from Dean. 

Dean felt like he was vibrating out of his skin. What was he going to do now? He couldn’t very well snatch the little box away from Cas, could he? And what should he say? 

“Oh Dean,” Castiel gasped. He looked up and met Dean’s panicked gaze. “Dean…”

Amongst a choir of whats, the others leaned over to see what was in the box. The harmony of whats dissolved into a cacophony of oh-my-God-s, oh-Dean-!-s, oh-Cas-!-s, oohs, plain gasps, and fucking-finally-!-s. 

Everything Dean had kind of planned to say went completely out of the window. 

“Cas… Would you… I mean, you don’t have to, if you don’t want to, I don’t mind, I mean, I do, but, um, not like that, what I mean is, if you-“ 

Castiel broke into one of those smiles Dean loved so, so much, gummy, goofy, lighting up Castiel’s whole face, and suddenly Dean did not know anymore how he had gotten so wound up about this. They didn’t need fancy words, they never had needed them. But if Cas had taught him something in the last couple of months, then that it was nice to have them anyway. But maybe they did not need them right now. There would be time for them later, in private, just the two of them.

“Will you marry me, Cas?” Dean asked, a smile on his face and his nerves finally quiet. 

“Of course,” Castiel smiled back, and then they were kissing, and for once Sam wasn’t complaining about them being gross. Charlie squealed and Eileen clapped, and Sam glanced at Eileen and maybe, just maybe, had an idea himself, but Dean was too busy putting the ring on Cas’ finger to pay much attention.

“Ahahaha, oh my God,” Charlie snorted, “you literally exchanged rings at Christmas!” 

“Charlie!” Dean shouted. 

“I don’t think a, um, well, that kind of ring qualifies as _that_ kind of ring,” Sam offered, red like a tomato. 

“Actually,” Castiel mused, “I only did what Charlie said I should do.”

“What?!” Dean yelped.

“WHAT?!” Sam cried.

“Oh?” Eileen asked.

“I did not tell you to get Dean a golden cock ring!” Charlie protested. She shuddered. “And that is a sentence I never thought nor wished I would ever speak.”

“You told me to follow the advice of the Queen Bee: 'if you like it you should put a ring on it’.”

There was a collective groan.

Castiel smirked at Dean. 

“But I might have misunderstood her on purpose.”

There was another round of shouts and laughter and eggnog before another round of way too much food. 

That night, once Castiel had demonstrated, extensively, all the functions of his Christmas present and Dean had broken his personal record, _again_ , they were cuddled up together in bed, spent and satisfied and murmuring sweet nothings to each other, and Castiel pulled a small velvet pouch seemingly out of nowhere.

“I didn’t really misunderstand the Queen Bee,” he whispered and let the ring slide out of the tiny bag and onto his hand. He offered it to Dean with a shy smile. “Dean, you’re all I could ever wish for… Do you-”

And that’s as far as Castiel got before Dean launched himself at him for the second time that day.

 


End file.
